A Weed in the Garden
Chapter 1

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Reluctant, Coercion, BiSexual, Heterosexual, Fiction, BDSM, MaleDom, Spanking, Rough, Humiliation, Group Sex, First, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Masturbation, Petting, Sex Toys, Squirting, Cream Pie, Spitting, Exhibitionism, Voyeurism, Hairy, Violent,

Desc: Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Mr. A. Patel is conflicted between his duty and his sudden acclimation to existance in a decadent society. The lush bottoms of the demanding Western women are far too tempting for his wavering dedication. Soon he will have to make a decision. A life and death decision in the very least.

Allow me to offer my Greetings to God and to all of you who read my words on this fine summer day. My name is (censored) and I write to you from the glorious but decadently capitalistic city of London. I was not born in London and in fact I must admit I was not born in Great Britain at all. Yes, I do have a British passport but I must decline to advertise the exact method in which it fell into my hands.

My hands are the hands of a true believer.

I have sworn to eliminate all non-believers not matter how much I have grown to admire and respect them. It is a blood oath and I would never think to disregard it.

This world of ours is like a garden. I and many others just like me grow and flourish in the garden in places we are not supposed to take root. It is very difficult to exist as a weed in the garden of life. Weeds are not respected, they are not admired, we exist only because we receive sustenance from the sun, the friendly rain that falls from the heavens above, and the sheltering shade of the many flowers and fruits so revered by the insidious non-believers.

My purpose is simple. I am to grow and stay unnoticed as long as possible. There will come a time when I am called upon to fulfill my sacred trust. I often waver in my resolute desire to execute my mission. In fact, I have almost forgotten who I am any more. It is true that my spoken English is a bit tainted. I work hard to make it less each and every day. I have not spoken in my native language for more than 3 full years and it grieves me to lose the flavor of its special nuances and tones. It is one of the many crescents I have to bear in the midst of the enemy.

I have adopted the name of A. Patel born to already deceased parents in the city of Blackpool. The simple fact is I have never been to Blackpool and certainly have no desire to do so. My sweet parents are blissfully unaware of my sacred mission and reside in the bustling city of Islamabad working as sellers of fine herbs and scents from exotic places. They have never heard of Blackpool and think that I am a student in the University in London. Despite my unfamiliarity with things Blackpoolian, I possess many little tidbits of Blackpool geography, history and can describe in great detail what one can see on various random street corners.

It is all part of what was explained to me in a far distant place. They told me it was my "cover story" and that I was to try and forget my previous life as best as possible. I have gotten so good at the endeavor that I see myself as this innocent working class cog called A. Patel.

During the past year, I have accumulated a dog, an ex-girlfriend, and a slightly used Television set that has some type of problem with the speakers. The dog's name is Maggie, the girl's name is Bitch, and the Television I refer affectionately to as "You worthless piece of shit".

My current female companion who is noticeably lacking what would be considered average intelligence always laughs when I relate a story about my ex-girlfriend. Probably because I start them with the words, "The bitch told me ... or, the bitch did this or the bitch did that". It does seem funny when I think about it now in this cold and dark place.

Jesse is what one would call, "A nice piece of ass!" She is quite different than Bitch because she is so annoyingly submissive. Bitch would argue about something as simple as the amount of salt used at the table. Jesse would run out to the store and get some more if I voiced my displeasure in any way. Yes, Jesse was a trap. A trap that I could not allow myself to fall into.

You must believe me it I tell you that should you pass me on the street, you would not suspect me to other than a normal young working male interested only in making enough money to enjoy the pleasures of a pint of beer, and a date with a nice-looking female with a nicely shaped bum.

In all truth, I have no liking for beer of any type and only drink wine when I feel my transgression will escape the wrath of my superiors and God himself. As for the girls with generous boobs and bums, I find most of the Western females to be far too caught up in their own overblown egos. I would like to take them all and put them in training camps to be proper females in the eyes of God.

Each day I give thanks to the almighty for sending me Jesse. She never fails to present her well rounded bottom to me for proper discipline whenever the mood takes me. Not wanting to make a baby with any of these Jezebels of a decaying society, I usually reward her with the insertion of my blessed tool into her high raised posterior allowing my precious bodily fluids to cleanse her filthy colon. I remember that Bitch would protest vehemently whenever I took her back door route to paradise.

When I first met Jesse, she was a bit sexually immature. She admitted to me that she had never taken it "back there" and that she was far too afraid to take a man's cock into her mouth. Apparently, she had been used for sex ever since her 16th birthday by her mother's boyfriends when they tired of slogging into her mother's loose-lipped vagina overly stretched by the births of five children.

Her mother watched all late night performances of her tight-pussyed daughter with keen attention to the utilization of safe sex and proper lubrication. Jesse told me that after a while, she was able to accommodate even the largest of cocks with little effort. This innocent girl of 20 had been fucked by over a hundred men and had never been kissed a single time. She had no inkling of the meaning of foreplay, never even considered being fucked except in the standard "missionary" position and was aghast at the thought of placing a cock inside her mouth.

I immediately took charge of her proper training.

In the past few months, I had taken to chaining my Jesse to my bed at night. She had enough chain to use the facilities and she slept on a comfortable mattress on the floor. When I wanted a part of her body for my pleasure, I merely pulled on her chain and she would hop onto the bed ready to serve me as I so desired. I had finally gotten her to totally abstain from the use of decadent cosmetics and after I had whipped her until she begged for mercy, she promised to never again shave her private areas. Her bush now was resplendent with its cushioned nest of long blond hair.

My work was trivial.

That was part of my cover.

I was to be unseen and unsuspected in the midst of the enemy. The firm I worked for was involved in the advertising of feminine hygiene products and I often was the butt of jokes from my pub acquaintances about our products. They are so crude and disgusting that I will not lower myself to repeat them here.

I was ever circumspect both at work and at the pub to be as normal as possible. I tended to blend into the background and let Jessie be the center of attraction. Her physical attributes were so formidable that it was most successful. With the elimination of cosmetics, her internal beauty shone with an aura of freshness that attracted most men and even a few women to stand close to her flame.

A young businesswoman dressed in a conservatively styled professional suit hovered at Jesse's elbow at the pub and invited herself to our flat for a nightcap. Jesse was a little bit high and clung to the young girl's arm like she was a seeing-eye dog leading her to safety. This "Polly" person smiled at me and dismissed me immediately as far too insignificant to notice. I was amused because this was a side to Jesse that I had not seen before. I pretended to be a bit drunk to see what the young girl was up to.

I fumbled for the key and had them taken from my hands by an impatient Polly. She looked like she was very adept at opening locks and she pushed us both through the door with a firm hand.

I sank down into the sofa watching our new friend Polly manhandle an unsteady Jesse into the bedroom and into a horizontal position. I hoped she didn't notice the chain and mattress under the bed.

I watched the businesslike Polly fix herself a vodka on the rocks like she was in her own apartment. She took off her jacket and now her formidable breasts were outlined under her thin white blouse. She looked in my direction with some degree of disgust on her face for my perceived lack of focus.

She was holding something in her hand that I could not quite make out. When she leaned forward on the sofa and held it up to her face I almost laughed out loud. The very sensible Polly was inhaling the scent of my Jesse's pussy imbedded into her recently soiled black panties. I was somewhat sympathetic as I was known to do the same thing from time to time. I remembered when Bitch caught me doing it just before we broke up and how she verbally abused me for almost an entire hour. The perverted Polly seemed to really be getting off on Jesse's aroma and before long I saw her hand slide inside the waistband of her trousers to start rooting around inside her own control-top panty-hose. Her glistening eyes were starting to cross as her orgasm rose quickly.

I choose that very moment to "awake" from my stupor and confront the suddenly guilty looking Polly.

"What are you doing with my girlfriend's panties, you dyke bitch?"

Polly tried to hide the panties behind her back and looked at me with a reddened face.

"I am most certainly not a dyke, you perverted prick!"

I scooted over on the sofa and grabbed her hand with the panties in it.

"Getting off on my Jesse's fragrance is pretty perverted, I would say!"

Polly pulled her arm away and almost hissing in my face, said,

"What's with the chains in the bedroom, Mr.? Are you some kind of deviant sleezeball?"

She was so serious, I had to laugh. It was all too pathetic. We both were obviously zeroed in on Jesse's lush body and had no reason to be at odds.

"That's behind locked doors, Missy, Let's have a truce. Keep the panties if you want them that bad, but you have to give me yours as a fair trade."

Polly looked at me like I was crazy and maybe I was just a little. I was A. Patel, a nondescript nobody with a terrible obsession for friendly female bums.

I could see Polly's breasts heaving with emotion. Her dark tinged nipples straining to be free.

"All right, Mr. wise guy, you want my bloomers, you got them."

The agitated young girl stood up and turned away as she dropped her trousers and kicked them off. Her panties were of the frilly French variety. They were the ones I so loved very much. I still had several of Bitch's sitting in my bottom drawer. The agitated young girl hastened to pull down her panties and revealed to me the magnificence of her splendid bush when she bent all the way over to take them off her ankles. It was very obvious her delicious looking pussy was leaking female juices inspired by the inhalation of Jesse's fine scent.

Polly held the damp panties out with her hand and she rolled up her pantyhose pushing them into her oversized purse. I looked into her defiant eyes and before I put them safely away in my pocket, I held them up to my nostrils for a long drawn-out sniff. The girl smelled strongly of exotic spices not unlike my bedroom above the shop in far-away Islamabad.

Since she remained standing half-naked directly in front of me, I took the opportunity of releasing my cock to full view and stroking it right in front of her shocked eyes. I could tell she was excited and very much aroused because her nipples were sticking out like buttons on a control panel. Her juices continued to ooze down the inside of her legs and I could not resist pushing my fingers into the sticky liquid and tasting the sweetness of Polly's pretty pussy.

Polly slapped my hand away from her leg and in an angry voice told me,

"You want to taste something, you perverted fuck, get a taste of my ass, you prick!"

She turned her backside to me and bent over the sofa. With her two hands, she spread her ass cheeks and offered me her quivering brown eye. At first, I was offended at her haughty attitude, but then with the beauty of her pretty pucker hole staring me in the face, I decided I would do exactly that.

I leaned forward and licked her pulsing rim and then slowly inserted the tip of my tongue into her tightly clenched anus. Polly gasped in astonishment as she never expected me to take her up on her debasing offer. My face was buried deep in the cleft of her ass and I reached around in front and began to softly play with her protruding clitoris. Her legs shook and she groaned in complete submission to my will.

Later we lay on the bed next to Jesse and I pounded her tight pussy with my demanding cock. For some reason, my reservations concerning western women seemed unimportant any longer.

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